


Not The Nine O'Clock Coffee Break

by Sally M (sallymn)



Series: Not the Nine O'Clock... a Stargate SG-1/Magnificent 7 series [3]
Category: Magnificent Seven (TV), Stargate SG-1
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Humor, Magnificent Seven AU: ATF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-25
Updated: 2012-11-25
Packaged: 2017-11-19 11:42:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/572886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sallymn/pseuds/Sally%20M
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The next in the <em>Not the Nine O'Clock</em> series, touching on hats, flirting... and pie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not The Nine O'Clock Coffee Break

**Not the Nine O'Clock Coffee Break**

__

_"The military -? Please, Mister Larabee, they have never been known for their leaps of insight. The chances of them linking Ezra Simpson with Team Seven are about as slight as... let us say, aliens landing on Cheyenne Mountain." (Ezra Standish, Not the Nine O'Clock Briefing)_ __

__

In the empty commissary, Daniel Jackson sat at the usual table, as near as he could get to the all-important (if, as always, unspeakable) coffee. He stretched out his still sore leg, then proceeded to totally forget it as he resumed shuffling through the paperwork he'd amassed on what should have been an interesting, if not particularly artistic, Ancient Egyptian pectoral and bracelet set from the time of the 8th Dynasty, probably belonging first to minor royalty, then to a minor grave robber, then to a minor robber of robbers, and so on... right up to the latest owners, a rich, uncritical collector of antiquities, and the mystery blonde he'd displayed it to right before she - and it - and quite a few other minor works - oh, and something over $50,000 - vanished without a trace. 

_Should_ have been. 

What it _actually_ was (once he and the Tok'ra had discussed, deciphered and debated the 'decorative glyphs' all over its suspiciously tacky and tasteless surface) was a Goa'uld explosive that was driving his Fearless Team Leader, the base's August Commander and just about everyone involved on several world demented as they tried to track it down. 

He sighed. 

His Team Leader was now off to Denver to 'interview' (translation: try and intimidate) one ATF undercover operative E. Standish a.k.a. Simpson a.k.a. Stranahan a.k.a. there-was-a-list-here-somewhere - a government agent whose resume included facing down gunrunning sadists, insane militia, domestic terrorists, local mafia... oh yes, and an ATF _Senior_ Special Agent called Larabee who was widely said to be scarier than the lot of them when pissed. 

Given that something similar was said of Jack O'Neill, his loyal team-member wasn't exactly heartbroken that the bullet in his leg had stopped him from tagging along for the fireworks. Daniel may have been the nearest thing the SGC had to a diplomat (something he freely admitted made him fear for the planet sometimes) but he knew his limits. 

Stan Kovacek, the second-nearest thing the SGC had to a diplomat, hadn't been so lucky. Neither had Sam. He'd just had her long and detailed - not to say vitriolic - phone call before deciding to hide out in the commisary for a while with his noted and the unspeakable coffee. 

And in the meantime, they could all be on borrowed time. The minor goddess Mafdet only knew what might set off her over-adorned bomb... Ah well, it hadn't blown up in the last few thousand years, and personally Daniel saw little reason why it would in the next few weeks. 

Of course, given his and the SGC's luck, _that_ meant it probably would. Tomorrow. 

"DanielJackson." 

He looked up from his stone-cold coffee and copious notes to see Teal'c entering the commissary with Janet Frasier in tow. 

"Uhh.... hey guys. Nice hat, Teal'c." 

The Jaffa inclined his head in obvious self-approbation; Daniel couldn't _swear_ that his lips twitched, but there was a definite gleam on the dark eyes that his teammate didn't recognize. Janet had asked Teal'c to accompany her into town on a militarily imperative mission involving decent coffee supplies (there was a casual conspiracy among the SGC staff to Accustom Teal'c To The Locals - or was it Accustom The Locals To Teal'c? - which meant inviting him along on any semi-justifiable trip out of the mountain), and he had taken the opportunity to try another of his growing wardrobe of concealing headwear on the populace. 

This one, a black fedora, actually _was_ rather sharp even if its sharpness was blunted by the... interesting haze of puce and purple flowers in the Jaffa's shirt. 

"It was most admired," the Jaffa said complacently. 

"Admired?" Daniel blinked. 

"By the female we encountered in DoctorFrasier's coffee shop." 

"Female?" Daniel blinked again, and noticed that Janet looked somewhat shell-shocked. "A friend of yours, Janet?" 

Janet shook her head vigorously. "Never saw her before in my life. It was an accident." 

"I assisted her when she dropped her parcels." 

_"I really do not know what came over me... such a scatterbrained thing to do!"_

"She was most appreciative -" 

_"Why thank you, kind sir! So nice to meet with a genuine gentleman in these sadly boorish times..."_

"And appeared to be alone -" 

_" I'm in this fair metropolis for just a few days, business you surely understand. I do believe it will be most profitable... and you are in the ranks of Colorado Spring's lawfully employed, of course? My my..."_

"- So we shared a table and repast." 

_"So tell me, my dear sir, are you fond of tea? Well sweetened, of course... Ah do find a modicum of sweetness improves everything. But of course, we_ are _talking of tea, aren't we?"_

"And pie." Janet's tone was very careful. "She and Teal'c struck up quite a connection." 

Teal's lips curved in a smile. 

"You... that's nice." Daniel totally understood Janet's dazed look. "I take it she _was_ nice?" 

"A most charming and intelligent woman," Teal'c said gravely. 

"And pretty?" 

Teal'c raised a brow at Janet's eye-roll. "I am not sufficiently familiar in what humans consider attractive, to speak for them, but I found her most pleasing to look at. She shows excellent taste, and greatly admired this hat." He took it off and considered it carefully. "I believe I shall purchase more in this style, DanielJackson. They make me appear - if I understood it correctly - _debonair_." 

There being no answer to that, or none that the galaxy's foremost linguist could think of, Daniel blinked a third time, looked at Janet, and said nothing. Janet waited till the Jaffa went to collect food - after all, he had not had pie for oh, ninety minutes? - then leaned forward and whispered, "They were flirting, Daniel. _Teal'c_ and this woman... _flirting_." 

Doctor Jackson had always found his imagination up to most things. False gods, deadly Tinkerbell sparkles, invisible insectoids and sentient strawberries - all in a day's work. Body swapping and multiple deaths were a little harder, but doable. Even the USAF Regulations were semi-believable, at least after the militareze linguistics training he had spent a year putting together with Hammond's rather bemused approval. 

This was not. 

" _Teal'c?_ " 

"Teal'c," Janet's head bobbed. "She _was very_ pretty, older than she looks but drop-dead gorgeous actually... she laughed at his jokes, Daniel!" 

" _Teal'c_ told _jokes_?" 

"Not Jaffa ones no, they're still classified as well as inexplicable. I think he borrowed some of Colonel O'Neill's -" she stopped, seeing him wince, and patted his hand. "- I know, Daniel, I don't believe it and I _heard_ it! And they both had tea... _Teal'c_ drank sweet _tea,_ and almost managed to look as if he _liked_ it!" 

"Sweet..." 

"Well and truly, triple the sugar. He was totally... well, _smitten._ She invited him to dinner at her hotel - she's only here for a few days, thank god - and while he said no, I first had to dig a heel in his instep to remind him _why_ he had to say no and invent a prior engagement." She grinned wickedly. "I don't know who she thought _I_ was, she was utterly sweet to me too but believe me, _I_ wasn't included in the invitation." 

"Oh. My. G..." 

"Teal'c, you're back!" Janet said suddenly, a little too loud. "So tell us, Daniel, have you heard from the Colonel and Sam? Have they tracked the Goa'uld bomb down yet?" 

Teal'c sat, his pecan pie carefully placed out of their reach, and arched an enquiring eyebrow. 

"Uhh, yes. And no." 

"But I thought you said that ATF Team Seven -" 

"Oh they met with Team Seven all right." 

Teal'c frowned. "They are enforcers of your country's laws, are they not?" 

"Well, yes." 

"And these laws give Stargate Command authority over them." 

"Well, yes." 

Teal'c's frown deepened. "So they would be compelled to assist our enquiries." 

"Well, yes... but from Sam's phone call, I don't know that I'd call it assistance. I have no idea what she and Jack and Kovacek are telling the General, but from what I could gather, Team Seven were, ummm," Daniel paused, "sincere..." 

_"You're with the Air Force? And a Colonel? Really? That's just so cool, isn't it cool guys? - I wanted to be a pilot when I was a kid. Well, that or join the Texas Rangers, or be a cowboy. But anyway, the Air Force was way up there with them. Not up there with the Texas Rangers, of course. Or the ATF. Not that I knew about the ATF but they would have been up there if I had. But the Air Force is pretty cool, and a Colonel, that's even cooler. Ezra was a Colonel once, you know. Well, sort of, it was Confederate. And well, sort of, he was undercover in a Civil war Reenactment Society and it's a long story, something to do with aliens and moonshine and you should hear him tell it and... anyway, he made a pretty fine Colonel the way he tells it. Then again, when Ezra tells it, you can't always tell what he's tellin' you, so... sorry, what was the question?"_

"... And very _very,"_ Daniel paused again, "friendly..." 

_"And can I just say, Major darlin' how that shade of navy brings our the roses in your cheeks and the blue of your eyes. There is something about a lovely lady in uniform, as I'm sure our Ez would agree. But surely, any humble favor he could do for such a divine creature would be its own reward, not that he'd refuse_ any _reward you might choose to grant. Any more than I would, for just one smile, Major darlin' - can I call you Major, darlin'? Or darlin' Samantha? Such a charming name, it shines like the sunshine of your golden hair, Major Samantha, and you can call me - well, just call me your humble slave. Yep, just one smile, and I'd tell you anything and everything your little heart desires... was there a question, darlin'?"_

"... And," Daniel pursed his lips, "helpful..." 

_"'Fore we talk about Ezra, you people seen someone about that skin rash y'all got? None of my business, of course, I'm not a doctor - but I'm not sure it'd be a good thing spreadin' it round, and you don't see to it, y'could find it spreading. Seen something like it before, poor soul got it on extremities and they ended up rottin' off. Yeah, that one and all, not pretty. Not that I'm a doctor, it's probably nothing to worry about - you there, Major, your nose been that odd shape before you got it? - but if it heads southwards I'd have a doctor look at it pretty damn quick myself before extremities start... sorry, I missed your question -?"_

"... Then again," Daniel shuddered, "incredibly _un_ helpful..." 

_"Where is Brother Ezra? That depends, my friends, where are we all when you think on it? The Good Lord, he knows and he isn't telling, but then I always thought he had a sense of humor, must have the day he created Ezra, and then gave him to us to watch over. Makes me ponder sometimes on what we must have done to deserve it - a good man, Ezra, but where he sees his life heading is one of life's great mysteries, just between him and his god, if he has one. You might talk to your own god about such things, whoever or whatever he - or indeed she, or it, who am I to say - is. Have you asked him - or her - or it - the question?"_

"So in words of one syllable - all of them from Jack of course - they don't know where Standish is." 

Janet looked at him quizzically. 

"Okay," he shrugged, "when Sam censored the words from Jack, that was what was left." 

"They were lying, of course." Teal'c's frown reached a record depth. 

"Maybe not. Standish left Denver last night with Larabee, and their team didn't ask any questions." 

_"You 'xpect us to give ol' cowboy the third degree 'fore he's allowed outa town, Colonel?_ You _got a death wish maybe, but we ain't that stupid. Larabee wanted us t'know his business, he'd have told us. Tell y'what, I'll let him'n Ez know you called. If an' when they call us, that is."_

"So Jack went over their heads to their ADC." 

"ADC?" 

"Assistant District Commissioner Orrin Travis." 

_"I have been advised, Colonel, that you are here on a matter of national importance. However, I do not appreciate my men being accused of lying to you. Team Seven never lie._

_"....Except if it's necessary to a case, of course._

__

"Or in self-defense. 

__

"Or if it appears the better part of discretion. 

__

"Or if they're off duty. 

__

"Or when Agent Larabee wants them to. But otherwise, Team Seven would not lie. 

__

".... not all of them, at any rate. Standish wasn't there, was he?" 

__

Daniel sighed. "So Stan Kovacek stopped Jack from losing his cool and getting arrested, and Sam from punching out the one who wouldn't stop with the flirting, and getting arrested, and Major Wade from getting in a fight about _alleged_ skin rashes and nose shapes and getting arrested... and then Stan got _himself_ arrested." It was Janet's turn to blink, and choke. "Along with the other members of his team that went as backup. Something about illegal parking. Or jaywalking. Or something equally important." 

"You're not _serious_." 

"Apparently the Denver PD took it very seriously. From what Stan gathered, they take _everything_ that might aggravate Senior Special Agent Larabee - even when he's nowhere to be found - seriously." 

Daniel gathered up his papers and clambered, a little awkwardly, to his feet, knowing that his Doctor's eyes went straight to his healing leg and that his Doctor's face was immediately struck with that expression they all knew and feared. "It's _fine,_ Janet, just sore. I don't want to miss this debriefing, we've wasted far too much time chasing these people around when we could be exploring _non_ -law-enforcement-slash-urban-cowboy cultures out there in the galaxy -" 

"And, presumably, being blown up by alien bombs on other planets instead of on this one," Janet added sweetly. "That is, if you are still all so sure it _is_ a bomb -?" 

The archeologist glared at her. "You've been listening to Jack, haven't you?" 

"Me? _Never._ " She put a hand to her heart. "You wound me, Doctor Jackson. But still -?" 

"It's a bomb. Everyone agrees it's a bomb. What else could it be?" Daniel huffed, scowled, and stomped painfully away, knowing that her gimlet eyes were not missing the tiniest of limps even as he stomped. Teal'c rose, plate with the last of his pie firmly clutched in one big hand, and bowed to her in a way disturbing reminiscent of the way he had bowed to... what was her name? Minnie? Minna? Mona? - before following. 

Janet sighed and went back to work. She now knew more about Jaffa flirtation techniques than she had ever wanted to... and it was a full two hours before the shock wore off enough for her to realize that something was missing. Something quite important. 

Her wallet. 

  

Minna Skillington (a.k.a. Maude de Saussure a.k.a. Maude Standish a.k.a.... oh, way too long a list to recall) put the wallet aside, smoothing out the banknotes and slipping them into her own purse, and studied the woman's ID for a minute. It was a pity she had not realized that 'Doctor Frasier' was employed at the very same base as the deeply unpleasant people who had brought her son's ire down on her; the woman could have been useful, for information if nothing else. 

... As could her companion, the very large, reassuringly susceptible man called Murray, but Maude was certain she could contrive to 'accidentally' run into him again, and confident in her skill in extracting information so sweetly and painlessly that the extractee (in Mister Larabee's inelegant but accurate phrase) never felt it. 

She lifted the lid on the box that Murray had so helpfully carried for her, and lifted out an enameled 'pectoral' necklet and armbands, and laid them on the bed. 

A pity really. She would have preferred more cash, but the little toad Wingo from whom she had acquired them (let no one, least of all the ungrateful and undutiful snakelet in her bosom she called her only child, whisper the word 'thief'!) had proven disconcertingly difficult to pry the money from. And now the fat little weasel had had the unmitigated _gall_ to go to the authorities... 

She sighed, staring down at the supposedly ancient jewelry as she fingered it. It certainly _looked_ ancient (and Ezra, she knew, would have used the words decrepit and dilapidated, also unsightly groteque, vulgar, crass, shoddy...). It really was _all_ time-immemorial-worn gold and enamel, covered in tarnished and rather peculiar felines and snakes, and even more peculiar writing. 

Attractive it most surely was not, but from what Wingo had said, it was ancient Egyptian, and agreeably valuable if authentic. 

And of course, _she_ could swear to its authenticity. _That_ had never been a hindrance before, and she didn't see why it should be in the present: a little light research, a few creatively written certificates from obscure - and preferably deceased - experts in the field, and the right, sweetly baited presentation, and they should be off her hands and someone else's problem before matters became any more complicated than they already were. 

A small voice in the back of her mind - that sounded disconcertingly like her darling boy - queried why the _Air Force,_ of all people, were hell-bent on complicating matters in the first place. As she had no answer to that, she ignored it as thoroughly as she invariably did her darling boy himself). 

Her fingers brushed across two of the tiny, archaic, enameled felines on the necklet, lighting for just a moment on their tiny crossed eyes. 

She paused, disconcerted. Just for a moment, less than a moment, she would have sworn that - they glowed. 

  

No, that was ridiculous. 

Maude shook her head and swept them up to pack away again, mind racing busily through the list of dubious contacts she could use to broker a sale before Ezra, Ezra's forbidding superior and Ezra's new and rather too curious military acquaintances brought their various brands of unpleasant lawfulness into her business dealings. 

She was sure she could prevent the unpleasantness, she always could, as long as she wasn't trying to prevent it from... 

"Hello, Mother." 

**-till next time...?-**


End file.
